


A Thousand Words

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Inspired by Kaciart who is just, M/M, Muse AU, Muse!Prompto, Novelist!Gladio, Promptio and OT3, Trippy but bear with me, amazeballs, eventual OT4 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 13:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16450715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Gladio's success as as writer came from years of passion, hard work...and a little magic from his favorite muse. But Prompto isn't just a source of words on paper anymore - he's a meaningful part of Gladio's life. And in order to protect him from the greed and cruelty of the world, he's going to have to be willing to give him up.





	A Thousand Words

**Author's Note:**

> For the amazing and talented (and incredibly sweet) Kaci over on Tumblr, who has already inspired thousands of words with their breathtaking art. [**This piece in particular**](http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/178800759618) was the inspiration for this fic, and I've done my best to keep the story in line with the original context. There will be more to come - much more, actually - but for now I hope you enjoy a rather fluffy, smutty opening to an otherwise magical kind of AU.  
>  And to Kaci.... Please know that you are my muse.

_I am a creature of the Fey_

_Prepare to give your soul away_

_My spell is passion and it is art_

_My song can bind a human heart_

_And if you chance to know my face_

_My hold shall be your last embrace._

\- Heather Alexander

 

* * *

_...stretched out on the dark sheets, his body was an irresistible temptation; a beacon that called out to Dorius in the shadows of night, drew him away from the open window and back into their bed. Tristan’s arms wove around his shoulders as easily as they ever had. Pulled him down against inviting warmth, the kind that drove away the worries, the terrors, the demons outside. Down, down into the space between his legs, where Dorius sought to lose himself forever._

_It was there, in his companion’s embrace, that he once again found peace that night. Tristan moaned his name, louder, more desperate each time Dorius sank into him, until his voice grew to song. It lifted them both, filled them with a fire that rivaled the light of even the gods; their passion chasing back the darkness as it had night after night after night._

_This was their power. This was their hope. In this World of Ruin, they both found solace in the strength of their |_

 

“...Their what?”

Gladio jumped nearly out of his chair. He’d been so focused on the screen, on the blinking cursor daring him to finish his sentence, that he hadn’t even heard Prompto sneaking up behind him. Not until the blond’s chin was already resting on his shoulder, and his voice had spoken right into his ear.

“U-uh. Sorry, what?”

Grinning, Prompto slid forward until he was leaning his weight against Gladio’s back, one hand on his shoulder for balance and the other gesturing toward the text on the screen. “I wanna know what you were about to say. _‘The strength of their…_ ’ - what? You stopped right when it was getting good.”

“Oh.” He followed Prompto’s arm back to the screen, back to the half-finished sentence there and frowned. That single, unwritten word still hung on the tip of his tongue. It had come to him so naturally as he typed, and yet his fingers had frozen above the keyboard, unmoving, unable to give it life. “It's…nothing. Just a stupid line, I’ll change it later.”

The look Prompto gave him was telling. Still, he didn't push - he knew better than that - and instead used his fingers to draw Gladio’s gaze back to his own. “You've been working on this for hours,” he said, lips curling at the corners with intent. “Don't you think you deserve a little break?”

“I can’t. Ravus has been breathing down my neck all week about this deadline. I really gotta….”

But Prompto was already spinning the chair around, putting Gladio’s back to the computer and his focus on more important things. Namely, his body, which was naked save for a too-big black tank top (borrowed) that hung down to the tops of his thighs. “You've got all weekend. I can only stay tonight.”

“I know, baby.”

“So come on. Let’s make some of that ‘inspiration’ stuff you're always looking for.” He emphasized his point by climbing into Gladio’s lap, knees sticking through the arms of the chair as it creaked beneath their combined weight. “Let me work my magic.”

_You always do._ But the words never left his mouth, captured as they were by Prompto’s lips ghosting against his own. Between them, Gladio’s body responded instantly, his cock twitching inside the confines of his pants as it strained toward the blond’s heat. There was no way he was getting any work done now, that was for sure.

“If I'd known muses were this distracting, I would’ve stuck to writers’ block,” he laughed as soft lips closed in again. “How am I supposed to get any work done with you prancing around the house wearing my clothes?”

“I don't _prance,_ Gladdy. Those are satyrs.”

“Then maybe you're part goat.” A thoughtful hum. “Or a nymph. Anyone in your family ever live in a pond?”

White teeth flashed. Prompto rolled his hips down, and even through his clothing the friction of hard flesh was enough to hitch his breath. “ _Please_. If I were a nymph, your dick would’ve been sucked dry by now.” He giggled, feeling Gladio throb desperately beneath him. “I come from a very long, long line of muses, and we’ve always worked in mysterious ways to serve those in need. Just ask ‘Tristan’.”

_Tristan_ . Gladio tilted his head back as Prompto’s mouth moved down to claim his throat. A warmth spread through him, familiar and deep, and without thinking he pulled that slender body closer to him. _Just like Dorius would._

They were characters - _his_ characters - in the novel that had single-handedly boosted his career as a writer straight to the top. One day, he’d gone from mooching off his friends and struggling to self-publish, to best-seller lists, book signings, and more royalties than he knew what to do with. _Glaive Heart_ , and the entire _World of Ruin_ series that followed, had changed his life.

But while to many Tristan and Dorius were merely characters in a fantasy realm, to Gladio they were so much more. They were _real_ , they were familiar: Dorius, the brash fighter, headstrong and impatient, and every bit the hero Gladio himself had dreamed of becoming since he was a child; Tristan, the orphaned prince, as beautiful as he was mysterious, and even more deadly in a fight. Golden-haired, cheeks kissed by freckles and eyes the color of ocean sapphires, Gladio needed no reminder of where the inspiration for _him_ had come from.

It seemed that Prompto, however, was keen on jogging his memory anyway. In a very short span of time he’d managed to work Gladio’s sweater up to his chest, and was humming to himself as he traced over the planes of muscle there. Thin fingers danced across his flesh, playfully, unrushed. Blue eyes swam with interest and he made no effort to hide his own erection catching at the hem of the shirt he wore. “I’m gonna try to guess,” he said. “And you have to tell me when I get it right.”

Gladio let his own hands come to rest on either side of Prompto’s bare hips. “Guess what, baby?”

“What you were going to write. That line, about _‘their strength’_ ,” the blond clarified with a small smile. His eyes were suddenly and impossibly blue behind a wisp of hair. “Okay?”

_Pretty dangerous, actually, but..._. “Okay.” Those hips rolled down again - pleased, most likely, with his answer - and this time Gladio didn’t bother to hold back the groan that left him. “ _Mm._ _Yeah._ I’m all ears.”

A kiss, pressed right to the darkening bud of one nipple. “Was it ‘ _sex’_?”

“Nah.” Gladio slid his hands up under the fabric of Prompto’s shirt, rubbed his thumbs over the ridges of the hip bones he found there, and smiled. “Try again.”   

“ _Mm._ Lust? Or desire?”

“Closer, but no.” Before he could speak again (and risk finding the correct answer) Gladio hoisted Prompto fully into his lap. In a second move, he’d lifted them both up and out of the chair, and was grinning even as long legs hooked around his waist. “Those are all pretty good things, though.”

Pink lips stretched wide. Curiosity forgotten for the moment, Prompto caved. Dove in for a kiss, and then a second, and a third, until their mouths were locked and the room was spinning. They wouldn’t have made it to the bedroom if they’d tried. Gladio hit the sofa first, carried Prompto down with him. The borrowed tank top flew off, hit the lamp shade, dimmed the room. More clothing followed. Dark hair was released from its bun, and pale fingers set to work tangling in it. One or both of them moaned into the kiss as the distance between them closed completely.

For a few precious moments, Gladio didn’t think about his book at all. Didn’t care about deadlines or word counts or plot holes, because he was too busy getting lost in something more important. In _Prompto_ , whose body was perfect heat as it surrounded him, moved atop him, rhythmic and free. His lips were tender as they kissed, inviting even as they trembled, parted, whispered his name.

And then there were his eyes. Gladio felt something when he looked into them; an ache, right in the center of his chest where he struggled to take in air. Something that made him want to stay, to never want to look away again. Even for those few seconds of pleasure as Prompto arched up, cried out with the orgasm that shuddered through them both, Gladio’s vision turned into a sea of white with two, shining sapphires in its depths.

 

* * *

Prompto was yawning before he even hit the bed.

From the door of the bathroom, Gladio watched him curl up around the biggest, most  comfortable pillow and nuzzle his face into the softest part of it. “This one,” the blond announced with an airy sigh. “It’s mine now.”

Gladio’s reflection in the mirror smiled through the steam. “Yeah, yeah. At least dry your hair before you get the sheets all wet.” He finished tying up his bun and grabbed his glasses off the edge of the sink. He was still holding one towel around his own waist as he carried the other over to the bed and settled down at the edge. “C’mere, baby. I’ll get it for you.”

The blond laughed and squirmed as large hands scooped him up. He was deposited on his ass, and nearly swallowed up a moment later in the large, fluffy grip of the towel. Gladio ruffled it over every inch of his head - mercilessly and despite the squawks of protest from within - until by the time he finished Prompto looked like he'd lost a fight with a very powerful blow dryer.

Pink lips pouted up at him from out of the towel. “My perfectly groomed hair….”

“At least it isn't wet anymore. And I think it's cute.” Gladio, smiling, didn't give him the chance to argue. He swooped in where Prom’s face was still captured between his hands and pressed their lips together, hard at first, then softer as he felt the blond’s tension seep away. A few more kisses, slow and unhurried, his fingers combing back through the hairs at the base of Prompto’s neck and drawing little shivers to the surface. It felt so natural to have this. To feel Prom’s breath against his lips, the warmth of his skin and the taste of him on his tongue. So simple, and yet it meant more than he could ever put into words.

_Prompto. I lo--_

“...You should rest,” he said instead, reluctantly pulling away from the kiss to put a half-inch of distance between them. “You’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

He didn’t miss the tongue that darted out to lick at slick lips, or the expectant look hanging in summer blues. “ _Tease_.”

“Like I didn’t wear you out earlier?”

With a slow stretch of his bare arms over his head, Prompto made to show off the marks Gladio had left on him. A few on his neck, deep and red; around his nipples, the distinct outline of teeth evidence of a certain...possessive streak. And he _purred_. “Maybe you were right, Gladdy. There might be a little nymph in me, after all.”

Gladio laughed. Sure, he was tempted - he was _always_ tempted when Prompto was within reach - but he also knew his own limitations. Unlike the blond, his blood didn’t flow with ancient, mysterious magic. He was mortal, and that meant that when he tackled Prompto back onto the bed, it was to wrestle him into his arms to sleep.

They settled on a compromise. It involved Gladio losing the towel, and curling up with his front pressed flush to Prompto’s bare back, but the effect was somehow more soothing than anything else. He sank his head further into the pillow as he let the sounds of the blond’s heartbeat resonate inside his own chest. Buried his lips in soft tufts of hair, and hugged his arms tight around that slender waist. “Thank you for the break today, by the way,” he hummed. “I needed it.”

Prompto gave his forearm a squeeze beneath the sheets. “You’re welcome. _Buuut_...you’re still not gonna tell me what you were going to write, are you?”

“Not tonight, babe.”

A deep sigh, though there was a smile behind it. “Oh, yeah. You got a text while you were in the shower. I think it was Noct?”

“Hm? It’s probably just about tomorrow. I’m meeting him and Iggy for lunch.” He stifled a yawn as, reaching across Prompto’s form, he switched off the lamp next to the bed. “We’re going to Wiz’s, that new place I keep telling you about. I think you’d really like it.”

Even in the dark, he could see blue eyes craning back to watch him. “When am I going to meet your boyfriends?”

“Soon. I promise, baby.” Sleep was encroaching fast. Gladio stroked his fingers down the length of Prompto’s arm, found his hand at the end of it, took it in his own as he kissed blond locks. “I’m not ready to share you yet.”  

“Gladdy….” But, as always, the argument died there. They both fell into silence, choosing not for the first time to ignore the obvious flaw in Gladio’s logic - that Prompto was and always would be a _muse_ . That he had others to serve, to help, to inspire, and already a different voice was calling out to him across the void. In the morning, he would be gone again. Could never quite say when - or even _if_ \- he’d be back, because it was against his nature to linger. Muses, Gladio had come to learn, were as untameable as a perfect dream.

So Prompto stayed quiet, and Gladio… _well._ He kept the power of his words to himself. One word, in particular, that the moment he dared to speak it, he knew the magic would be lost forever. The one word Prompto wanted to hear the most was the one he could never risk giving him. Only in the silence of night, and only in the form of full lips moving against soft hair, could the secret remain safe.

_Love._

And that - that was their strength, doomed though it may have been.   


End file.
